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Archive for the tag “Tasman”

The Heaphy Track – Perry Saddle Hut to James Mackay Hut

Hiking on an empty stomach was never going to be an enjoyable experience. After ejecting all of the previous day’s sustenance while hiking up the mountain, the lack of appetite meant setting off on day 2 of the Heaphy Track tired, exhausted and dehydrated. I was still a little nervous every time I took a drink from my water bladder, but the sterilising tablets had done what they needed to and thankfully, there was no repeat of the day before. But it was to be a long day traversing the ridge from Perry Saddle Hut at 860m to James Mackay Hut at 700m, a 6.5hr walk according to the Department of Conservation (DoC) signage. The earlier risers at the hut meant I was on the track at the back of 7am, but I was sure that I was going to struggle maintaining a decent pace, and my pack was weighing heavy on my shoulder as I followed the path through the forest.

Following the contours of the mountain, views were sparse through the canopy, an occasional glimpse up to the hillside next to the track, or an occasional broader view across a valley. Streams and bridges were crossed and after an hour, the forest finally opened up to the moorland of Gouland Downs. It reminded me of Scotland, the heather-like shrubbery at shin height, and the wind whipping across. Rain clouds threatened from a distance creating a faint rainbow as I walked. This was takahe and giant snail country, both endemic and rare wildlife that could be spotted here. I passed signs alerting to look out for both but saw none.

 

As the trail dropped down a little towards a stream I came across a totem pole littered in hiking boots. I’m not sure what possesses someone to abandon their hiking boots in the middle of nowhere, but clearly lots of people have done so, as there was a myriad of shoes strung up on the pole, leading to a sign declaring the spot as ‘Boot Pole Corner’. Beyond here, the rain clouds appeared to be dispersing and I saw the rainbow once more as I got nearer the first of the day’s huts, Gouland Downs Hut. This small hut lay in a flat section which was supposed to be one of the best places to spot the takahe which had been released into the wild here. Hiking alone often gives me the best chance to spot wildlife, but although I had the place to myself, there were no birds to see.

 

I’d taken a little longer to reach the hut than the signs had predicted, but I was neither surprised nor put off doing the side tracks here. A little past the hut are some side tracks that are only obvious when you are looking for them. The first led into thick forest where a couple of caves could be found among the undergrowth. When the main track went into the forest, a network of arches cut under the track making for a neat little exploration into the limestone landscape, and at the end of the forest, a track led down into the low vegetation and round a corner to reveal a large open cave with a waterfall dripping down the front of it.

What followed was a series of river crossings as the track remained mostly flat across a mostly open section. It seemed on the map like the next hut wasn’t that far away but my energy was flagging with every turn in the trail that didn’t bring it into sight. Finally the 1km marker popped up and I pounded the trail in anticipation of a break, arriving at the exposed Saxon Hut which was full of people enjoying the sunshine to eat some lunch. These were all people that had stayed at Perry Saddle, but I hadn’t had the opportunity to meet many of them yet due to my ill health. I still wasn’t hungry but forced myself to consume a small cup of hot soup in an effort to boost my energy a little. It was all I could manage, and so I pushed on, feeling weighed down by all the food I wasn’t consuming.

 

My destination for the night was still 3hrs away according to the DoC sign and to begin with the track continued through tussock and wetlands, close to the Saxon river. Turning and climbing up onto a ridge, a bench in what seemed to be the middle of nowhere denoted the division between the Tasman District and the West Coast District. I struggled as the track continued along a long and winding ridge following the contours of the land. Aside from that small cup of soup, I hadn’t kept a meal down since breakfast the day before, and I was really leaning on my poles as I dragged one foot forward and then the other. My pack was such a burden on my back and my patience was getting thin as the winding seemed never ending and it became difficult to work out on the map how far I’d actually come. At one point I realised that my jumper had fallen off my pack strap where I’d slung it, and I cursed myself for having to back track to find it.

Finally I reached the dual crossings of Blue Shirt Creek which was at least somewhere recognisable on the map. The curve and dip in the landscape offered a broader view across the landscape than I’d had for a few hours, and after a brief rest by one of the bridges, I felt a bit more motivated to get moving again. Finally, the trees parted to reveal Mackay Downs, and the track became boardwalk as it crossed a slightly alien-looking landscape. This section can apparently flood quite badly in heavy rain but it had been such a sunny day so far, the ground appeared relatively dry. At one point, the track passed some unusual boulders before finally a marker denoted the hut was near.

 

The final kilometre to James Mackay Hut felt like it took forever. I arrived at 4.30pm, over 9hrs after leaving Perry Saddle Hut behind. There was still plenty of hours of daylight left but I was exhausted and still feeling dehydrated. But the hut gave a sneaky peak of the rest of the hike, with the Tasman Sea crashing onto the west coast just about visible in the distance. I couldn’t even consider having dinner, there was just no desire for food whatsoever. Whatever bug I’d picked up had hit me good, but I was just grateful to not be throwing up, and happy to still be on the trail despite it. There was a definite sense that the next day would bring a change, with signs that the landscape would change quite a lot. But for now, it was time to rest again, and attempt to block out the snorers ahead of the next 2 days of hiking.

Adventures in Tasman

It was just a matter of minutes before we hit a snag. Loading back onto the bus at the Farewell Lighthouse, we cut down onto the sand and crossed the wide pool of water that sat at the edge of the beach. As we reached the far edge of the water and began to lift out onto the sand, the large tyres of the bus dug in and lost traction and very quickly we were stuck. A brief attempt to drive us out buried us deeper into the sand and in the windy afternoon, we were instructed to get off the bus. Luckily there were two buses on the tour and the other bus picked a different route through the water and made it safely onto the firm sand on the far side. Both drivers and several of the passengers took turns digging tunnels to drain the water away from the tyres. I’ve injured my back several times and was too worried about a repeat issue to help out, but my partner despite awaiting surgery on a torn muscle in his shoulder, leapt into action to help out. I felt a little guilty just watching but at the same time was worried that he’d injure himself more, failing to talk him out of doing what was instinctual for him. It got cold as we stood there, and eventually I was able to help with some lighter work, passing the chain between the two buses. It felt like a lot of time passed when eventually to great relief, the other bus was able to pull ours out the water and haul it onto the firmer sand.

 

Finally we could get back on board and on our way. We were driven some way down the massive expanse of Farewell Spit before we stopped at a relatively high sand dune. A trudge to the ridge revealed a view over the sand and Golden Bay across the far side. The cloud limited the horizon a little but it still felt like we were far away from anywhere with no signs of civilisation apart from us and our buses. A little further along the beach we stopped to see some baby oyster catchers, running alongside their parents, still in their fluffy spotted fledgling wear. We were both getting tired and hungry as the bus reached the base of the Spit and turned inland to make the crossing to the far side. The sand here was really soft and as we crossed the widest section, ready to lift up onto the track, we once again ground to a halt and bedded into the soft sand. Our driver, who had been a little too cocky on the drive up to the lighthouse, was paying the price and there was much disgruntlement among the passengers as we again had to disembark and my partner again put his shoulder at risk by helping to push the bus. I was concerned that the other bus would not be able to help us this time as he had to negotiate the soft sand at an awkward angle to help us out. There was a brief moment where I held my breath, concerned that he too would get stuck, but thankfully in less time than the initial grounding, we got out of our conundrum and were finally back on the other side and heading for Collingwood.

 

But things were not over yet, as with the tide in, we had to partly drive through the sea to reach the car park and the main road. Thankfully we reached the tarmac without further ado but as we crowned the hill and reached a one-lane bridge on the far side, we came face to face with a campervan who was forced to reverse on the narrow road to give us space. A tone of shock filled the air as one of his wheels nearly went off the road, threatening to topple him into the lake by his side. We could all see the look of fear on the passengers faces, but thankfully they were able to stop themselves just in time, and with a bit more negotiation, we were finally able to get on the road and return to Collingwood for a much needed drink and food.

We awoke to sunny skies on Christmas Eve, and having had a taste of what was on offer the day before, we retraced our steps to Farewell Spit. Sadly the cloud moved in as we made the drive, but that wasn’t going to stop us getting outside. Parking up at the Farewell Spit car park, we made the walk through the farmland past grazing sheep to the beach at the bottom of the Spit on the far side where we’d stopped on the bus the day before. Sadly there were no fur seals in sight this time, and with my partner struggling with cramp, we didn’t stay for long before heading back. A cafe sits atop a hill nearby and this made a great snack spot with a view over the bay and a small exhibit on the natural history of the place. Almost immediately behind it, a path led up through a paddock to an even higher spot affording an even better view over the rolling hills and the glistening water below. New Zealand is such a stunning country, and each new place I visit never fails to disappoint with its natural beauty.

 

We’d spotted a walk whilst on the bus the day before, so although we were headed out to Wharariki Beach, we stopped at a small pull-in to make the trudge up the steep slope to meet the Hilltop Walk near a small lighthouse. It is possible to walk from the cafe where we’d eaten all the way to Wharariki Beach if you have about 4hrs to spare, but we were just using the opportunity to get some views of the coast. It was difficult to get a clear view of Farewell Spit due to the vegetation but in the other direction we could see the wonderous cliffs and rolling hills that made up the coastline as it disappeared into the distance of Kahurangi National Park. Despite the burning sun and heat of the summer, the vegetation was a lush green, a stark contrast to the browns of the Port Hills that we get back home in the summer months. We could just about make out Cape Farewell where we’d stopped on the bus, but beyond that we could see a dip in the coast that marked our destination for the day.

 

It was a long gravel road that took us to the exceptionally busy car park for Wharariki Beach. This is one of the region’s top attractions and in the height of summer, it was full of tourists and their campervans. There is a bit of a walk to get to the beach even on the most direct route, but we opted to take the long way there, following the path past grazing sheep to round a pretty little lake. The sun had all but gone now, and the clouds had thickened up to grey the sky above us. Still, I could feel the power of the UV raging through and as usual, I had to continue to lacquer on the sunscreen despite the cloud. After a while, the track cut up onto a ridge and we got our first sight of the offshore rock sculptures that this beach is famous for. Past a lake on the hilltop, we headed down through a copse of trees and finally found ourselves at a small cove, completely surrounded by giant rocks, and one that we had all to ourselves apart from a fur seal that was resting at the back of the beach.

 

Initially we weren’t sure if we could get out of the cove without backtracking but after a bit of investigation, we were able to clamber over some boulders and found a cave that led us through to Wharariki beach proper. Even here, there were more giant rocks and we discovered a multitude of caves and arches to walk through. The position of the tide meant having to get just a little bit wet, and on more than one occasion we accidentally startled a fur seal that we stumbled on without warning. The further up the beach we walked, the bigger the crowds became. Despite the overcast weather and the expanse of the beach, it was quite busy around the middle section where a large cave and the area’s most famous sea stack can be found. One of several off the coast, this most famous one resembles a baby elephant, an arch on one side making it look like a trunk, and the slope on the other side creating a head and back. I wasn’t the only one playing around with the reflections in the tide trying to get a decent photo of it.

 

Although spots of rain threatened and the temperature dropped, I was reluctant to leave. Sometimes I can find it hard compromising when I’m travelling with other people. A lover of solo travel, I enjoy the freedom of spending as much time as a I want in a place, so I was a little disgruntled that my partner wanted to go. He’d been struggling with cramp and was getting agitated and restless. I begrudgingly traipsed behind him, making an arc to follow the water’s edge at the top end of the beach, doing my best to prolong my time there. The walk out involved a long trek through soft sand that was built up on a ridge behind the beach. As we reached the top, it started raining quite hard and suddenly I was as happy as my partner was to leave the beach behind. Although we were using the direct route to return to the car park, it was still a good 15 minute walk, and despite the rain, there were still plenty of people heading down to the beach.

 

Unfortunately the rain persisted into Christmas Day and we whiled away the hours watching movies at our motel. When eventually the rain eased, we were quick to get out on the road and make the most of the weather window. Driving round to Ligar Bay and beyond, we cut up the steep hill to take the gravel road into Abel Tasman National Park. This was the opposite side of the peninsula to where we’d previously been when staying in Kaiteriteri back in 2013, and the road was steep and winding, and with the rain that had fallen, it wasn’t the most comfortable road to drive. Despite this and the lack of tarmac, there was an inordinate amount of campervans and trailers heading over it, and I was very grateful that I wasn’t the one driving. I’m not a fan of driving New Zealand’s gravel roads, but unfortunately many of the hikes I’ve done over the years have involved negotiating them. They vary a lot in smoothness and gradient and on more than one occasion I’ve lost traction on a hill or skidded on the loose stones.

When at least we reached Totoranui, the car park was full and there were people everywhere. A large camp site hugged the back of the beach and we waited in the car for a bit as more rain passed through. When it eased again, we started walking the Abel Tasman coast route, one of New Zealand’s Great Walks. My partner had noticed on the map that there was a lookout about 20mins along the coast so we headed there. The view in both directions was of sweeping coast, the sand here a vibrant orange colour. On a sunny day, the waters off New Zealand are usually a staggering blue, but on this day under the constant threat of more rain, the sea was a steel grey. Heading back to the campsite, my partner stuck to the track while I cut down to the beach, listening to the waves lap against the shore as I kicked my way through the sand. There was only a handful of people on the beach because of the weather so it felt peaceful here until I cut back up to the campsite. Legs feeling stretched and cabin fever relieved, we made the drive back to our motel to settle in for a Christmas dinner feast and a night of movies. Before the sun set though, we managed a walk round the deserted streets of Takaka to ease our full stomachs.

 

Boxing Day was a gloriously sunny day, but sadly we were heading home. I had wanted to do the caving experience on the top of Takaka Hill, but overcome with festive laziness, I didn’t get ready quickly enough and by the time we’d packed up, checked out and made the trudge up the long and winding road to the brow of the Hill, we’d just missed the guided tour. We stopped at a couple of lookouts instead which on one side of the road gave us green hills descending towards Golden Bay, and on the other side green hills descending into a large and deep valley. It was stinking hot, and we decided to turn into Kaiteriteri for a wander along the beach and some brunch. Sadly, Abel Tasman National Park has become a victim of its own popularity, and unlike our visit in 2013, the place was crammed full of people. There was nowhere to park, and despite circling round a bit and getting frustrated as we dodged pedestrians at every turn, we couldn’t find any space. In a last ditch effort, we took the turn-off to Little Kaiteriteri and finally found a patch of grass to park on at the far end of its beach. There was nowhere to eat here though, so although we could get a bit of a walk along the beach, our appetite drove us onwards, so after soaking up a bit of heat it was time to bid the coastline goodbye. The traffic back to Christchurch was busy, but more people were heading where we’d come from than where we were going and I wondered where all those extra people were going to fit.

Golden Bay

Since emigrating to New Zealand in early 2012, I’ve spent a lot of time exploring the country and gradually I’ve crossed off more and more places to the point that only a few key parts of Aotearoa remain unvisited. With both myself and my partner having time off over Christmas in 2018, we had secured a motel in the Golden Bay region, a place that I hadn’t been to before. Setting off from Christchurch a few days ahead of the big day, we mosied our way up through Lewis Pass and north beyond Murchison towards Motueka before cutting west towards the infamous Takaka Hill. I visited Abel Tasman in early 2013 and this was the furthest west I’d previously been on the north coast of the South Island so as we crept towards the hill, joining the increasing traffic, I was reaching new territory. Thanks to previous foul weather, landslips had reduced the steep and winding road to a single lane in multiple places, meaning the drive was periodically held up by traffic lights and queuing traffic. As we climbed high, the view over the valley behind us opened up and when at last we reached the brow of the hill and crossed the summit to reach the steep descent on the other side, I was presented with yet another stunning part of the country.

The hills made it feel like this corner of the island was cut off from the rest of the country, and indeed it had briefly been so when the landslips initially happened. The massive Kahurangi National Park divides this corner of the north coast from the wild west coast and surrounded by hills, we descended into a lush green valley below full of farmland. Having not paid enough attention to the geography, we had booked to stay at Takaka, and it was only when we got there that I realised that we weren’t actually by the coast. My partner was tired from the drive and after a walk around the compact little town, he wanted to veg in front of the tv whereas I was antsy and eager to get to the beach. Eventually after a rest, I convinced him to come with me and we drove down to Pohara where the expanse of the sandy Golden Bay was finally in front of us. It was a gorgeous evening, and with the tide out, we took a brief wander along the wet sand.

 

A few bends further along the road is the local marina, created out of reclaimed land and after a wee wander to admire the boats and the man-made hole in the rock where the road cut through, we followed the road a little further towards Ligar Bay. On a raised part of the coast, just before the bay was the Abel Tasman monument. Abel Tasman was a Dutch explorer who is credited with discovering New Zealand (the country had in fact been inhabited with Pacific Island settlers for some time before his discovery) and this region bares his name, both in the National Park, and also in the name of Tasman District (the Tasman Sea between Australia and New Zealand is another nod to the explorer). The monument itself wasn’t much to look at but the view down over Golden Bay proper and in particular Ligar Bay is stunning. Once down at this beach, we both took another short walk and I wished we had rented a place here as there were so many houses with an incredible view over the bay.

 

The next day we took the same drive back to Ligar Bay but this time continued to Tata Beach. Just like the night before, I was wishing we were staying round here as again there was a beautiful beach, this time with a couple of islands offshore to look at, and there was a bit more activity here as families sat on the beach while others kayaked or jet-skied out to sea. After a while, we headed back to Takaka and out the other side, heading west and making the short drive to one of the area’s most famous attractions: Te Waikoropupu Springs. The springs are the largest freshwater springs in the country and the largest cold water springs in the Southern Hemisphere. But it is the purity of the water that makes them so famous, with a recorded visibility of 63m, they are almost the purest waters in the World. I’d seen pictures of stunning blues and had been eager to see them for myself for some time.

 

Arriving early in the morning, there was already plenty of cars in the car park, a typical finding in the height of summer in New Zealand. The country has had a tourism boom in the last decade and even in the time that I’ve lived here, I’ve seen popular places get increasingly overcrowded and over-stretch local infrastructure, resulting in a lot of development in an effort to accommodate the influx. Passing the information boards at the entrance, we followed the loop trail which meanders for a while through the nearby forest until eventually it comes out at the first open expanse of the water, where a boardwalk crosses the edge of the pond. The sun was behind a thin layer of cloud creating an unfortunately dull colour to the water here and the low angle of the sun meant you couldn’t see below the surface. It wasn’t until we continued round the trail a little and found a separate section of the pond with a boarded area facing away from the sun, that we could really appreciate the clarity of the water. I’m still not sure just how deep it is here, but it looked shallow given the clarity and the hint of the blues I’d seen in photographs could just about be discerned here.

 

There really was just these two main areas to see the expanse of the water. The returning section of the loop trail was again in the forest, although this time it followed a broad and fast flowing river where we watched some ducklings trying desperately to fight against the current to stay with their parent. We took our time to read the information boards back at the car park, acknowledging the crowds that had arrived as we’d walked the trail. It wasn’t just the car park that was full of activity, as there was plenty of manuka trees here and the honey bees were busy flying from flower to flower around us. Manuka honey is special, and is used not only in the food industry, but also in medicine as it has antibacterial properties and can aid in wound care.

Continuing west we turned off the main road to cut down to Patons Rock where there was yet another expanse of sandy beach. I’m not really one for sitting still on holidays, and prefer to be on the go and exploring over sunbathing on the beach, however, when I saw the various families splashing around in the water and lounging on the sand, I did get a little pang of jealousy and wished I could do the same. But we had booked onto a tour for the afternoon and so had to keep pushing onwards, so we continued on the last stretch of road to reach Collingwood, a small town that felt a million miles from anywhere. Sandwiched between the waters of the bay and an expansive estuary, we walked around the calm waterfront behind the peninsula, overlooking the mountains of Kahurangi National Park, and continued round to Golden Bay where the wind had by now whipped up and blew sand on our face as we walked amongst the driftwood on the beach here.

 

Before long though, it was time to join our tour and at the office of Farewell Spit Eco Tours we were assigned a bus and driver that was to take us out onto Farewell Spit that afternoon. Heading north to Puponga, we cut inland a little to reach Cape Farewell, the northernmost point of the South Island. A short walk from the car park here took us up the hillside to the sheer cliffs where under the heat of the summer sun, we looked down on a dramatic cliffscape complete with sea arch. A short walk from here took me up to join the Puponga Hilltop walk where I could see behind me over the rolling hills, and in front of me to the sparkling sea over which a small group of Australasian Gannets soared over. It was a beautiful lookout spot but I was keen to get out to the Spit where I hoped we’d spot some more wildlife.

 

The giant tyres of the bus seemed ridiculous for the tarmac on the drive to get to the spit but as soon as we went through the locked gate on arriving at the end of the road, it was clear why they were necessary: from this point onwards, the rest of the tour was via the sandy beach. Farewell Spit is a long sandbar that curves east from the northern corner of the South Island. Protecting this corner of the coast from the brunt of the wild Tasman Sea, it has created the deceptively calm and shallow slope of the expansive Golden Bay. The tidal movement within the bay is so dramatic that the difference between high tide and low tide on the sheltered side of the spit is dramatic, and it is believed that the shallow shelving of the seafloor here is at least in part responsible for the sadly regular event of mass whale strandings that occur in the bay. Time and time again, large groups of pilot whales beach themselves in Golden Bay, a large percentage of them dying as a result, despite the concerted efforts of Project Jonah, the country’s registered charity to try and refloat whales.

Only the lowest section of the Spit can be accessed by the public. To experience the full length of the spit, it is necessary to join a tour. After a brief spell on the Golden Bay side of the beach, the large bus cut across to the other side where we were exposed to whatever the Tasman Sea chose to throw at us. We’d already gotten a hint of the wind whilst in Collingwood, and here with the full exposure of the sand bar to our right, we paused to watch the sand whip madly towards us. We got the chance to get out nearby to explore the geology of the rocks and managed to spot a couple of New Zealand fur seals hiding out below the cliff, but then it was time to head along the expanse of the spit, the gloomy clouds to our left and the wind whipping at us as we drove.

 

We tanked it along the sandbar, twice slowing down to negotiate and annoy a sleeping fur seal hauled up on the sand. I was a little annoyed at our driver circling one of them which clearly pissed it off as it growled at us before it ran down the beach a bit. The sand itself was dotted with pools of water left from the retreating tide and the two buses had to work out the best way to negotiate these safely to get us to the lighthouse. The largest of these was at the entrance to the lighthouse itself, where the pool was long and of varying depth. Our driver scouted it out first of all before gunning it and making it across without any issues. The second bus was some way behind us but eventually caught up and picking a different route through the water, also made it across. In the blustering wind, we all bundled out to explore the grounds of the lighthouse, poking our noses in windows and walking amongst the dunes here. Outside one of the buildings, a whale skeleton stood and I inspected it with scientific curiosity while the others on the tour relaxed with drinks and snacks. I’m a cetacean enthusiast and back in 2005 spent a glorious 3 months in South Africa studying them, and this skeleton brought back so many memories of the anatomy lessons I’d received whilst there. After a while, it was time to board the buses for the return trip down the spit, a trip that turned rather awry…

Mount Robert

If you were to have just one day to visit Nelson Lakes National Park, I highly recommend it is spent hiking Mount Robert. Towards the northern end of New Zealand’s South Island, nestled on a road between Nelson and Blenheim, is the little village of St Arnaud that lies by the bank of Lake Rotoiti. Flanked by the St Arnaud mountain range on the eastern aspect, opposite to them, and round West Bay lies the domineering peak of Mt. Robert.

Lake Rotoiti hikes illustrated at the DOC office

 

It is a short drive from the village, and up a winding unsealed road to reach one of the car parks. Stopping in to the local Department of Conservation office, I was recommended to hike the summit in an anti-clockwise route, and I would definitely recommend this too. From the uppermost car park, the Pinchgut Track sets off through an impressively dense and tall forest and immediately starts the constant winding gain of altitude that leads up to the summit. The middle section of the ascent is exposed to the elements – in the case of the day I hiked it, this meant the harsh and hot sunshine. Zig-zagging upwards for over an hour, Lake Rotoiti is visible for a large portion of the hike before the trail disappears again into the forest. Being in the middle of the summer, there were alpine flowers in bloom and plenty of Tui flitting about the trees.

Forest walk on Mt Robert

Nelson Lakes National Park

Lake Rotoiti on the ascent

View through the forest canopy

Alpine flowers

 

After about an hour and a half, the path burst out of the trees at a pseudo-summit. The true summit of 1421m (4662ft) is unmarked, but is effectively one of the two little hillocks that sit to the side of the path which is only a metre or two off the summit height. From this ridge track, the lake is hidden, but instead the vista is of rolling green hills spreading off into the distance. Nelson Lakes National Park is undeniably beautiful, and with the sunshine and associated haze, the mountains appeared blue. A little hut, called the Relax Shelter sits near to the split in the path which marks the turning point for the loop track to head back to the car park. With more time, it is possible to continue along the Pinchgut track which climbs higher to the Robert Ridge, and beyond to the Angelus Hut by a mountain lake of the same name, and further still to connect to one of the many tracks around both Lake Rotoiti and Lake Rotoroa. The National Park is a hiker’s paradise with a large selection of track options to choose from.

Relax Shelter with Robert Ridge behind

Track options from the summit of Mt Robert

Summit view west

Summit view west

 

My partner, who is not a fan of hiking mountains, always spends the incline cursing me under his breath. I always know he will love the view and the achievement at the end of it, which is why I talk him into it, so after receiving the evil eyes on the steep climb up, the smile broke across his face as we rested up by the shelter. The bees were busy polinating, and some other hikers chatted to us for a while. After a pit-stop, we took the loop path that split from the Pinchgut Track, called Paddy’s Track. This took us first over a fairly barren ridge where we were facing the immense wall of the St Arnaud range, and finally Lake Rotoiti came back into view.

Looking across to the St Arnaud Range

St Arnaud range from Paddy's Track

Lake Rotoiti from the shingle ridge

 

Beginning the descent, we passed the Kea Hut, an old ski club hut from the days when people used to hike up mountains before ski lifts were invented, and beyond this was the Bushline Hut, a decent-sized overnight hut at 1290m (4232ft) altitude. Being a popular trail, we got chatting to a German hiker whilst we ate lunch. After having had Mt Alford to myself the week before, it was interesting to have so many tourists to chat to as we went. From this point onwards, Lake Rotoiti is in full view for the majority of the descent. The path has loose shingle making some parts a slip hazard, but with such an awesome view it was a very enjoyable walk down. On two occasions, there is a scree slope to negotiate which needs good treads on your feet, and finally, the path disappears back into the forest for a while before eventually exiting at a lower car park.

Kea Hut poking through the trees

Panorama of Lake Rotoiti

Lake Rotoiti with St Arnaud visible

Lake Rotoiti

Lake Rotoiti through the forest

Descending towards Lake Rotoiti

2nd scree slope

 

The DOC signs state 5 hrs for this hike, and that’s not far off what it took us to complete the circuit, although this included a lengthy lunch break and a shorter break on the summit. The majority of the hike is exposed to the elements making it a sweaty affair on a sunny day, but I was recommended this hike, and I highly recommend it as a must for any trip to this National Park.

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